camouflage

dirty? check.

scraped up? check.

loving life? check.

yep, it's summertime.

(click on the photo to get the full effect. thanks for the picture stephanie!)

we listened together

Embrace, by Carol Aust

Last October I had an idea. I was looking for ways to connect deeply with God and with other women at church and thought, What if we had a retreat for women, specifically focused on contemplative prayer and listening to God? When I first pitched the idea to an elder at church her response, while encouraging and positive, was basically to say that she wasn't sure that the women in our congregation would come to something like that. I told her that I would do it by myself if that's how things played out, but that I would pray for others to join me.

Around that same time, another woman from my church (Marcy) began to suspect that God was calling her to lead a prayer retreat for women at church. She promptly told him, No way. He persisted, and she budged a little, saying OK maybe, but someone has to directly ask me to do this - I will not volunteer. In January, Linda (the elder I first talked to about my idea) approached Marcy and said, "Would you consider helping to lead a prayer retreat for women?" Marcy could only laugh. Her next bargain with God was along the lines of, OK I will call Haley about this, but she'll probably describe something totally different than I'm picturing and our visions will clash and then I'll be off the hook. She called me, and had to laugh again when I described the vision God had given me for the event. Now she had no excuses left and we both began to get excited as we realized that this could only be the work of the Holy Spirit.

Last Saturday more than 50 women from John Knox and the surrounding community gathered to listen to God. It was amazing. Marcy and I planned, prepped, and put together materials and activities for the day, with help from a wonderful committee (yay for being Presbyterian!). But the day was not amazing because of all that. The day was amazing because God spoke. God spoke, and we listened together. God spoke, and we responded together. God spoke, and we will never be the same.

watered garden at sunset.

friend's lens

It is fun to have friends who are professional photographers. If you live in the Seattle area and want to get phenomenal family pictures (or engagement photos, senior pictures, pregnancy/new baby shots), check out Dave Roberts Photography. These are a few shots Dave took when we hung out with him and his family a few weekends ago. Thanks Dave!

morning glory

Adam's seeds are in my garden
uninvited.
Never shaken from a packet, purposeful
or folded damp in towels
for faster germination,

though busy, busy, they are unaware
of this neglect.
Spades in reverse, they show their faces
pointed tips and purple-white stems.

I am green but even I
can tell them from the seedlings.
Before they spread their leaves
I snap their necks

And feel I've won.

Tomorrow they return, unfazed,
brazen and with company.
But doesn't tomorrow always hold
trouble enough? I suppose,
and look down uneasy
at my clean cuticles.

I could have taken the time
the trouble
to sink my fingernails in earth,
unearthing dark below
the purple stems, the root.

I could have listened,
not for the snap but for the rend,
the groan of undoing
creature from creation.

Go away! you ill-named noose
on the neck of my blessing

Go curl in choke-holds
up abandoned fence posts.
Go suffocate the half-dead alders
on hills
that are better off sliding.
Take your false-white flowers to empty fields.

Not in my patch of earth and life,
where love is tended
tender
and growing under care.

firstfruits

Budded branches in April. Fresh leaves in May. Firstfruits in June.


strawberry



figs


raspberries


apples


prune

free counseling

Searching for the perfect throwing rock

The following has been an almost-daily conversation at our house lately, especially while we're in the car or out on a walk:

Nate: Mommy, today I'm searching for [fill-in-the-blank, could be garbage trucks or ladybugs or yellow ducks].

Me: That's great, buddy.

Nate: What are you searching for Mommy?

There is something about the innocence in his tone that makes my breath catch in my throat. Of course I could answer with any number of acceptable (if not totally truthful) responses: shooting stars, stop signs, or swimming pools would all suffice. But when his sincere little four-year-old voice asks that question I have a hard time lying to him. I usually pause, buy time (um... well, that's a great question Nate. Let me think about it for a minute.) and wonder.

What am I searching for?